


When you really want something

by belmanoir



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Established Relationship, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Tom/Corey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9084169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: Tom is worried about Corey's crush on Neville.  
  “I need to talk to you about something.” Tom’s heart wasn’t exactly in his throat, but it wasn’t in its normal spot in his chest either. Corey was pretty skittish about relationship talks. He was pretty skittish about relationships, period.





	

“I need to talk to you about something.” Tom’s heart wasn’t exactly in his throat, but it wasn’t in its normal spot in his chest either. Corey was pretty skittish about relationship talks. He was pretty skittish about relationships, period. Their talk about monogamy had started at _You’re such a_ square, _Tom_ and progressed to _Fine, if it means we can stop having this conversation, I’ll follow your bourgeois little rules, Tom,_ even though Tom had never particularly demanded monogamy in the first place. He just wanted to know where they stood.

He’d told himself that meant Corey did want to be monogamous and was embarrassed to say so. But maybe he was just fooling himself.

“God, not again.” Corey fussed with his cuffs and checked a watch he wasn’t wearing. “We’ve been taping NXT for what feels like decades, do we really have to do this now?”

Torn between affection and irritation, Tom sat on the edge of the bed, stretching his spine. After hours of taping, he was tired too, and his throat hurt. But he’d been thinking about this all evening, through every one of Corey’s digs and insults. “Yes, we do. It’s about Neville.”

Corey’s head whipped up. “What about Neville?”

Tom’s heart sank to its normal spot and then a little lower. “It bothers me the way you talk about him on the mic.”

Corey rolled his eyes. “I know Neville’s tactics are extreme, but when you want something bad enough, you can’t let a little thing like etiquette stand in your way.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant that you sound like you’re in love with him. I know he was your partner, and I know we’re both going to be attracted to other guys, but I—”

Corey’s eyes narrowed. “What other guys?”

Tom hid a smile. “That’s not the point. On Raw you talked about kissing his fingers, Corey.”

“Yes, because he’s the king of the Cruiserweights. You’re just jealous.”

“Yes,” Tom said patiently. “I’m jealous. That’s what I just said. I’m your boyfriend and I care about you, and it’s humiliating when you drool over other guys on TV while insulting me to anyone who will listen.” He flushed. “Mostly.” _You’re my partner and I love you,_ Corey had said last month. On air, he’d said it, and then changed the subject.

Corey checked the fold of his collar, looking a little pleased with himself. “I have eyes, Tom.”

Tom gritted his teeth. “Right, I just said I know we’re both going to be attracted to other guys—”

“Yes, but you won’t say _which guys_. Maybe _I_ should be jealous.”

“Maybe,” Tom said evenly. “I’m not asking you to stop looking at Neville. I’m just asking...I guess I’m asking if I should be worried.” 

“Worried about what, Tom? That I’m going to leave you for Neville? I wouldn’t worry about that, I’m sure he has guys _and_ girls lining up to kiss the royal fingers.”

Tom flopped back on the bed, feeling a little hopeless. He’d told himself Corey meant that _I love you_ , that he hadn’t said it again because he was embarrassed, shy, afraid...he’d made it into a big deal in his head, but maybe Corey just meant, _You know I love you, bro_ , like he’d say to anyone. Any bro. It felt like a tiny thing to cling to while drowning in grandiose Neville-worshipping oratory. “What does this relationship mean to you, Corey? What do I mean to you? Me: un-cool, un-vicious Tom Phillips who is never going to do a brutal dropkick to anyone’s face. That’s all I want to know.”

Corey looked as if he wanted to slither out of his suit and pompadour and leave them behind as a decoy while he made his escape. “I don’t know why you always want to label everything, Tom.”

Usually Tom loved the faintly accusatory way Corey said his name. Right now it wasn’t really working for him. “You know what? I think I’m gonna get my own room for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Corey stood straight up. “What? This is pathetic, Tom!” He kept sputtering while Tom got his stuff together and walked out, but he didn’t make any romantic declarations.

***

Tom opened his eyes. Huh—? “What time is it?” he mumbled, rolling over to look at the clock. 4 a.m. He blinked. Someone was pounding on the door, and he suspected he knew who it was. He sat up, removed the crusty stuff from his eyes, washed his face, and opened the door. He didn’t bother changing out of his boxers and stretched-out white T-shirt. Screw Corey anyway. Probably he should let him bang on the door until security came and escorted him away...except...

Except that Tom couldn’t repress the little spark of hope in his gut that sang, _Maybe. Maybe. Maybe he’s here to apologize and say he loves you._ “How did you get my room number?”

“I told the desk guy I was your boyfriend, duh.”

Tom tried not to interpret even that as some kind of sign of...something. Of Corey’s primary feeling about him not being embarrassment at people knowing he liked such a nerd. “He shouldn’t have given it to you. I told you I wanted to be alone. You need to respect that.”

Corey crossed his arms. Tom’s eyes went straight to his tattooed biceps. He’d done his hair for this and put on skinny jeans and a tight black T-shirt, because he always tried too hard. “It’s like I told you earlier, Tom. When you really want something, you can’t let a little thing like etiquette stand in your way.”

His heart raced. “Okay, I’m here. What is it you ‘really want,’ Corey?”

Corey’s wide eyes met Tom’s. His mouth opened—and then it closed. He turned his face away. “I want you to come back to the room.”

“Aaaargh!” Tom clutched at his head. “Why? Throw me a bone here.”

“You’re my boyfriend, Tom, I think it’s reasonable to want to sleep with you.”

“I don’t understand what you’re afraid of. What do you think is going to happen if you say you care about me?” 

“Other than my cool card getting revoked?”

Ordinarily, Tom would have laughed. He didn’t feel like laughing tonight. “Go call Neville,” he suggested. “Maybe he’ll take you back.”

Actual panic flashed across Corey’s face. “Is there somebody in here with you? Did you call that loser Tye Dillinger or something?” He tried to push past Tom and look at the bed.

Tom shoved him back against the door. His heart pounded—maybe it was stupid letting things get physical with the Savior of Misbehavior, even if he wasn’t cleared to fight. But Corey just frowned at him, surprised.

“There isn’t anybody here.”

Corey sagged against the door in relief. “You’re making a big deal over nothing, Tom, as always. There’s nothing going on between me and Neville.”

Tom had been about to calmly explain that if the idea of Tom liking Tye Dillinger bothered Corey so much, then he should understand why Tom was upset about Neville. But suddenly he had an idea. An evil, underhanded idea. 

Maybe he couldn’t brutally dropkick Corey in the face, and maybe that was something Corey wanted. Craved. Dreamed about. But there were other brutal things Tom could do.

Screw it. When you really wanted something, you couldn’t let a little thing like etiquette stand in your way.

Usually he was content to slouch a little and let Corey tower over him, since it made Corey happy. He stood straight up and looked Corey in the eye. “So you have blue balls,” he said coldly.

The corner of Corey’s mouth turned up. “There’s no need to be crass, Tom.”

Tom fought a smile. “You missed me,” he suggested.

Corey crossed his arms again. Tom resisted touching them. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“You want to kiss Neville’s fingers?”

“It was a figure of speech.”

Tom ignored him. “You like my fingers too, though, don’t you? When I was cheering for Tye Dillinger, you said I liked showing off my fingers.”

“Don’t play coy, it doesn’t become you.” Corey swept his hair back. “Like no one’s ever told you you have beautiful fingers. Anyway, Tye Dillinger’s a pathetic whiner.”

Tom felt warm, but it wasn’t a nice Yule-Log warm. It was shot-of-whiskey-to-the-stomach warm. He shivered. “He’s not afraid to be vulnerable. I admire that. If I were dating Tye Dillinger, he probably wouldn’t be too much of a coward to say he cared about me.”

Corey scoffed. “Please.”

“And he’s very attractive. Those eyes? Mmm.”

Corey’s mouth twisted. “I wish you didn’t have such terrible taste, Tom, it makes me doubt myself.”

Tom held up his hand. “Open your mouth, Corey.”

Corey did, and Tom put his index finger in. Corey sucked it without needing to be told, his trouble with eye contact miraculously vanished. Fuck, suddenly Tom was remembering exactly what that tongue felt like on his dick. He poked another finger in, _slippery wet hot_. Corey’s chest rose and fell, shallow and fast. 

“Unzip your pants and push them down.”

Corey’s hands trembled so much he fumbled the button the first time. He made a little sound of protest when Tom took his fingers away.

Tom wrapped his wet fingers around Corey’s dick and pushed his other hand in Corey’s mouth. Corey spread his legs for balance and reached out for Tom.

Tom’s first instinct was to pull away. But he thought of something else, something nastier. He hesitated—but he slid to his knees, out of Corey’s grasp, and took Corey’s balls in his free hand.

Corey’s fingers slid through his hair. 

Tom squeezed. Carefully, incrementally, watching Corey’s face, but he didn’t stop until he heard a gasp of pain. “I don’t really want you to touch me right now. You want to come so you can sleep? Fine. Put your hands on the door.”

“You’ve got a nasty streak,” Corey said with hoarse approval, and pressed his hands flat against the door.

“Everybody does,” Tom said, trying not to sound too triumphant. “Come on. Just watch my hands.”

And Corey did. He gazed hungrily at Tom’s fingers on his leaking cock until he came all over them.

Tom stood, wiping his hands on Corey’s t-shirt. Corey reached for him again.

Tom moved in, putting his hand on the doorknob. _Please don’t let there be anyone in the hallway. Please don’t let there be anyone in the hallway._

As quickly as he could, he yanked the door open. Corey stumbled, and Tom manhandled him around the door and into the hall, giving him a hard shove. 

“What? Come on. Tom!” Hotel doors were too heavy and closed too slowly, but luckily Corey was too busy putting his dick back in his pants to catch it before it shut.

Tom climbed back into bed. He felt _great_.

Corey was still pounding on the door, his voice muffled. “Don’t be an ass, Tom!”

Tom snuggled into his duvet, grinning.

***

When Tom opened his door the next morning, Corey was sitting cross-legged in the hallway with two dozen red roses. He sprang to his feet, obviously sure the door was going to get slammed in his face.

“How long have you been here?”

Corey shrugged. “Just a few minutes.”

Tom raised his eyebrows.

Corey gave him a reluctant, sly half-smile. “Okay, maybe a few hours.”

“Why?”

“I was waiting for you, obviously.”

“Why?”

Corey took a deep breath. “So you want us to start using the L-word, right? That’s what all this is about?”

“No,” Tom said patiently. “I don’t want you to say anything you don’t mean. I just want to _know_ —”

“Fine,” Corey said magnanimously, holding out his roses. “You win. I love you. Are you happy now? And you can stop trying to use Tye Dillinger to make me jealous. We’re professionals, Tom, and it’s childish.”

“I am very tempted to chop you with these roses right now.” Tom’s smile broke out in spite of himself. “But I love you too.”

Corey looked extremely relieved. “We should put these in water.” He swept confidently past Tom—but he faltered at the threshold, waiting to see if Tom would let him in.

Tom sighed. “Kiss me first.”

Corey dipped him, glowing.


End file.
